Beyond Darkness
by Caught-Fire
Summary: Lonely Sands, contemplative Sands, Sands Sands Sands. Not very good at summaries. Just tell me what you think...Rated T for language, minor violence and slight suicidal themes.


**Author's Note: **Well is my second story and my first one-shot. I saw the movie "Once Upon a Time in Mexico" recently. In my opinion, the character who stood out the most was definitely Sands. He is so twisted and evil, but in a way so easily redeemable. I was bored one night and, with the events of OUATIM still fresh in my mind, somehow managed to write some random drabble which turned into what you see before you now. Oh by the way, apologies for not putting the 'n tilde' in the word "Senor". I just have no idea how to do it! So I guess all there is left to say now is…Enjoy!

Beyond Darkness 

It was a busy day. Sands listened intently to the variation of footsteps on the harsh, dusty soils of Mexico. Each was unique to its owner. Some were soft strides while others were loud thumps that shook his sensitive ears. Ever since that unfortunate day when his sight had been so cruelly taken away from him, he had had to heighten his other senses to compensate for this lucky twist. Just thinking about that day made his blood run cold. The excruciating pain of the cold, hard drill as it dug through him, reducing his eyes to no more than bloody sockets. The sound of rending flesh coupled with his own screams was still strong in his mind. Even though he could feel and hear the drill cutting through him, at the time he could scarcely believe that it was happening. It had all felt like some horrible, horrible dream. His final moments of sight. Blood, White, Black. Eternal Blackness.

He took off his glasses for a moment. He hardly took notice as a passerby gasped before quickening their pace to get as far away from him as possible. Sands didn't care anymore. He was in a foreign land with only strangers for company. The only person who he even remotely considered a friend was his guide, Manuel. This seemingly irritating brat had actually saved his life in a number of tight spots. Even though he would never admit it, Sands was beginning to develop a tender spot for the Chicle Boy.

Sands reached up and to feel where his eyes had been. They were no more than scar tissue. He traced his hand over the tender flesh, his fingers moving mournfully over their remains. Well, I guess he couldn't complain. He WAS alive. Just.

Ever since he had been transferred to this little spit in the middle of nowhere, he had had his eyes gouged out, had been drugged and had been shot in numerous places, including both his legs. He had had a bad run indeed.

And that Ajedrez! Stupid, treacherous bitch! She was the reason for all of this! She had enticed him into bed and then stabbed him in the back! But he got back at her! She had joked about his phony arm, but in the end that had been her demise. That and his trusty 22'.

Sands had never had much luck with women. I mean, how could you impress a woman with a name like Sheldon? Like most men, he didn't think with his brain. That had got him into trouble numerous times. Sands met Ajedrez that way and look where it had gotten him!

"Senor?"

Sands thoughts were interrupted. He immediately recognised the voice, which belonged to Manuel. He looked down to where he guessed his face was, just so Manuel could see that he had his attention.

"Almost midday. Time for lunch, Senor." Manuel grabbed his hand and led him down the street. They were only minutes away from the El Cacto Perezoso, a popular eatery in this little remote town. After months of living in this remote hellhole, Sands had actually gotten to know where everything was quite well. That was just plain sad.

As he sat down, a waitress walked over to him and immediately handed him a menu. She started offering him the lunch specials. Her voice was velvety smooth and luscious. Sands had the image of a sexy Mexican temptress with long dark, flowing hair, writhing under him with pleasure. She had luscious, red lips, eager to be kissed. A small smirk spread across his face. Was it time to weave some of the old Sand's magic?

He snapped back to reality. He realised that she was still talking, too fast for him to understand, although he did catch a few words. From what he gathered she still talking about the lunch specials. Suddenly her voice had lost its smoothness and had become more like the incessant rambling of seagulls on the shore. Was it really time to weave some of the old Sand's magic? No. This one talked too much.

Sands interrupted her, not caring if he had been rude. "Puerco Pibil…and a Tequila with Lime."

"Oh! Oh! Si! Senor." He heard the footsteps of the somewhat flustered waitress as she hurried into he kitchen. He grinned to himself. He sounded like one of those bandits in the Old West Movies. He felt his gun, which was tucked under his shirt. Sands felt a surge of power from within every time he felt it, like he controlled the fate of all those in the room. He could stand up and shoot everyone in this room if he wanted. Well, it had been a long time he had used it…

"Tequila with Lime." Sands pulled his hand away from the gun immediately, not wanting to rouse suspicion. This waitress was really beginning to get on his nerves.

"Thank you, now fuck off!" Sands wasn't really sure she understood him. She continued to adjust the glass neatly in front of him. He sighed and had no choice but to wait patiently as she finished the job and went back to the kitchen.

He had been to this restaurant more times than he could remember. Obviously this waitress was new. All the other waitresses knew exactly what he wanted. They didn't ask questions or even greet him. They knew he was a dangerous man. This was the restaurant where he had shot Belini and that unfortunate waitress that had pissed him off.

After she had left he picked up the glass and took a sip. It was cheap booze. It didn't have the kick he desired. Even the tang of the lime didn't help. First he had to endure that annoying harpy and now this! He cringed in disgust as he set the glass back down again. And there it would stay for the rest of his meal.

He leant back into his chair. It had been 4 long months since he had lost his vision. Ever since then, he had wandered the streets of Mexico pointlessly. He was a ghost. He had no point in life anymore.

Yet somehow, he thought that there was more to his life than what he had now. Sure, he had thought about suicide plenty of times. It was a depressing thought, being alone and blind in a foreign land, never being able to see anything but black for the rest of your life. Many nights he had sat with the trigger to his head, wanting to pull it but never finding the courage. It was a horrible feeling to want to cry alone at night where no one can judge you but never having the tears come. Instead having a stinging feeling where you're eyes were.

Everytime he had tried to end it all, he felt a spark ignite within himself deep down. People who have nothing to live for, who are to die soon, have had there light extinguished, yet his was still there. There was only one conclusion- it was not his time to die yet, he still had something to live for. But what?

Sands wanted so badly to know what it was he had to live for. He was wasting his time here, watching his time slip away slowly. Why couldn't Destiny be kind to him for once and present him with his fate instead of watching him screw around blindly. She was mocking him, as most women did. Waiting to see how long it would be before he finally cracked.

He had done it again. He had become lost in his own deep thoughts. Sands did that often these days. You have no choice when your only company is random bartenders and a small child who is your only means of getting around. He had to push these thoughts out of his mind. They were way too deep. He needed to get some GOOD tequila inside of him.

_Now where the hell is my puerco..._

"Hey Sands!" Sands stopped mid-sentence, but held his mouth open. He immediately recognised the voice, but could hardly believe they were here. Why would they want to come here?

"Jorge Ramirez, why I haven't seen you since that shootout on the Day of the Dead last year." Said Sands in an indifferent tone. He didn't need this. He was much better off alone.

"Good to see you man. How have you been." Sands was slightly shocked when Jorge reached over and shook his hand firmly. This was a bit too cheery for his liking.

"Like my hat?" Sands furrowed his eyebrow.

"No, I don't, because I can't see it fuck-mook. And if you wanted to you how I have been, basically I have had a bubble-gum kid nurse me in his home for months with two beautiful women for company, that is, if you consider a busybody mother and a decrepit old dinosaur of a woman who's only topic of conversation is her why her fucking avocado's fail to thrive, attractive!" He felt like shooting Ramirez in his big, fat head right now.

"Oh really?" said Jorge in a false understanding tone. He didn't seem to take in anything Sands had said. Was he even listening? Bloody cocksucker was too wrapped up in his own measly affairs.

"Yeah really! I have been using a toddler brat to take me around! Funny how one minute you're a hot CIA agent and the next a helpless blind-man. " replied Sands angrily. He didn't mean to insult Manuel, but he was just too damned pissed!

"Well why don't you just get one of those cane thingies?"

"Because then I'd look like a blind-man."

Jorge was slightly confused. He went to open his mouth, but decided not to press the matter. He was, after all, talking to Sheldon. J. Sands, the CIA's most dangerous livewire. He didn't really want a bullet in his gut on his break.

"Well I, on the other hand, have been great. I went back to the States, bought a new car and finally payed off the mortgage to the house. My wife and I are here on a holiday. I was just driving around and stopped for gasoline, and then I saw your face in the window of this restaurant and I thought, why not? Why not drop in and say 'hi' to my old amigo. "

"Holiday?" Sands spat out the words like a piece of old chewing gum. Why would he want to come here? This third-world hellhole had been nothing but trouble ever since he had arrived. And he wasn't his "amigo" either. Stupid showoffy bastard…

"Yeah a holiday. This place holds a lot of memories for me." Jorge had taken a slightly detached tone.

"Humph, yeah me too." Said Sands mockingly. The prick was probably thinking of how he had busted Barillo that day. Sands had got his eyes drilled out that day. Quite a comparison.

Suddenly, his sharp ears picked up the sound of a car-horn outside. He instinctively fingered his gun. You can never be too careful. There were still Barillo henchmen roaming the streets, not at all happy that Sands had shot some of their comrades.

"Oh that's my wife. Ok, well it was nice seeing you." He got up and pushed the chair neatly in the table.

"Buena suerte con todo. Heh, how is my Spanish? I have the background and yet I never speak the language!" He didn't wait for the answer. Instead he pushed the saloon-style door and left.

"It's terrible." Muttered Sands.

Now that he was gone, Sands could get back to his thoughts. Wait! Wasn't he trying to get away from his thoughts? Well, at least Jorge was gone. Two minutes more and Sands would be hauling his corpse into his car right now. It had worked well for both of them.

However, there was something about Jorge that Sands envied. Jorge had made something of his life. He had a future to look forward to. Sometimes Sands regretted that he hadn't married. It was probably too late now. Being blind isn't particularly attractive to most women. He was too corrupt and evil for those rare girls who looked beyond looks and deep into the soul. He was mess…but he still had something to live for. Anyway, why would he want some bitch tying him down for the rest of his life?

And there it was. The spark. Somewhere deep down it had been ignited and was burning wildly. A wave of optimism shook him. Whatever it was that awaited him in life, he wasn't going to find it here waiting for puerco pibil in a shoddy Mexican restaurant. He stood up slowly and went to reach for his wallet, but instead found his gun. An evil smile crept upon his face.

He pulled the gun out, eliciting a few gasps in the background. He heard a few people immediately stand up and rush out the door. He smiled widened. He was in charge again.

"Puerco pibi…ah!" Sands' head immediately clicked to where the voice had come from. It was the waitress.

She was frozen on the spot. There was a deadly hush in the whole restaurant. The only sound Sands could hear was the trembling of the plate in her hands. She was scared. Good.

He turned his whole body to face her, gun still tightly in his grasp. He edged his face closer to where he guessed hers was, allowing his hot breath to graze her cheek. She choked slightly. She wasn't scared, she was terrified. Sands was really enjoying himself. But he had played with her enough.

Sands pulled away slightly. He pulled out a couple of bills and threw them on the table, never breaking his 'gaze' with the waitress. Finally he turned to leave. Only the sound of his leather boots hitting the hard, wooden floor could be heard. He was the old West bandit again. Sands was the centre of attention, and he loved it.

Sands reached the door. He heard the waitress exhale loudly. Without thinking, he immediately whipped his gun in her direction and squeezed the trigger.

There was a loud clang as plate and body hit the ground. Sands didn't so much as raise an eyebrow. He merely turned around and left.

Manuel was standing outside.

"Finish, Senor?" Sands turned his head to the entrance of the restaurant. It was in an uproar. There was screaming and the frantic pitter-patter of footsteps coming from within. Sands had disrupted the lazy siesta period of the day. He snapped his attention back to Manuel.

"Finish."

He felt Manuel grip his hand. Sands pulled away. He rummaged through his pocket for some more bills before stuffing them in Manuel's hand. Sands could only guess the befuddled look on Manuel's face.

"Take the afternoon off." He turned Manuel away from him and pushed him slightly in the opposite direction. Without considering his reaction, Sands started walking down the dusty road. He was the Blind Gunman and it was time to find his Destiny.

So what did you guys think? I hope I managed to portray Sands' character well. In my opinion, Jorge came off as a bit of an selfish airhead. Oh well, I guess that was sort of my intention. Anyway, I love to get helpful tips and some constructive criticism just so I can see how my writing is going so feel free to drop me a review telling me how I did. Thanks and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Xo0-Phoenix-0oX**


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